Love, the deepest cut

Love is blinding, binding
I’m telling you
Love is suffering, dying.
I’ve seen a father crying
Holding his child in his hands
As his child was dying
And as tears were falling
On the child’s face
The child was, smiling.
While death itself
Was above their heads
Running in circles, riding
Waiting for the time
To take the soul that the father
Was so deareasly hugging.

While child, unaware of that
Kept on smiling,
Looking at his fathers face
That from tears
Was so brightly shinning.
And no one dared
To separate that love
That from those two
With light was brimming.
Except for death.
Who came, took the child’s soul
And left the father, there, dying.

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2 thoughts on “Love, the deepest cut

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